


Balestra

by ravinilla



Category: VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Ken makes a brief appearance, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-13 01:05:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10503225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravinilla/pseuds/ravinilla
Summary: Sad that I'd let you kill me. Happy you haven't.





	

It was like déjà vu, looking up into the eyes of this same enemy for the nth time. Though the lights were low, he could clearly see himself in the glaze of the eyes above him, as if gazing into a mirror.

There was no struggle, no resistance; only the shadow of acceptance heavy in his limp body. He barely inhaled when the blade pressed deeper into the skin of his throat, threatening to slice him open and let him bleed out where he lay.

Tense moments passed like that; him, on the brink of death, and his assailant, on the brink of completing his mission.

The blade withdrew with just the barest of scrapes against his fluttering pulse. A sigh accompanied the shift of weight on his torso.

"Why do you never resist?"

A wry smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "What's the point?"

They stared at each other

A few seconds slipped by and then the other assassin clicked his tongue. Wonsik inhaled too sharply and the oxygen stung at his lungs. Footsteps began leaving him.

"Unbelievable."

That was the last thing the other said before disappearing from the warehouse. Wonsik rubbed at the skin of his neck, almost missing the familiar feeling of the cool metal.

Wonsik was a hitman for hire. He'd been in the business for as long as he could remember. He was born into it, raised into it, and eventually followed his fate into it. This was all there had ever been for him, and he never thought there would be anything more.

Then, he met Taekwoon.

It was a botched mission. Wonsik had never fucked up so much in all of his career, and to the present day, he still couldn't believe how badly that one had gone.

They'd had the same target. It was a situation Wonsik was well-versed in, through theory, training, and practice—but something he hadn't be prepared for was sniping at the wrong time. The target at been a wealthy hotel mogul, as Wonsik didn't discriminate and took jobs from all walks of life so long as the pay was good. Back then, he'd been given the man's itinerary of where he would be and when.

He had picked the perfect time and spot, and then took the shot—only a second too late. Someone had been with him: A young, beautiful man with blonde hair and fair skin that looked soft enough to sleep on. Wonsik had lingered just a moment too long because the man knew exactly where to look and for what reason.

Never before had Wonsik felt his life was in danger (or cared, really), but right then, he saw death beckoning him forward. He hadn't known someone else would be with the target, much less a trained _assassin_ posing as a high roller's escort. The whole job had been forfeited; the target turned up dead a week later, found naked, tied to a bed with a ball gag and a full erection.

After that, Wonsik saw Taekwoon everywhere, even when he wasn't looking for him. Taekwoon always managed to find him, even in the most remote of places, and it gave him the idea that maybe his body had been bugged without him knowing. Eventually, he found that he didn't mind.

Taekwoon started trying to kill him.

There was money on his head, a lot of it. Wonsik knew this and walked the line just on the side of caution. He'd wondered if Taekwoon wanted the bounty or something else, but all their conversations never happened. Taekwoon would find Wonsik, have a knife to his neck, have a gun to his temple, have a zip tie to strangle him with, have a barrel in his mouth like a cock, and then . . . He'd leave.

Suffice to say, somewhere along the line, Wonsik might've accidentally fallen in love.

The way Taekwoon would look at him at the perfect moment was endearing—or he was a masochist. Added the fact that Taekwoon had numerous chances to kill him and he didn't, it intrigued Wonsik. Why wouldn't he finish the job?

Wonsik had never tried to hurt him back. In the beginning, he'd defended himself, but when he realized Taekwoon had no real desire to kill him, he accepted the situation. That acceptance eventually turned into not minding dying by Taekwoon's hand. He'd always known he'd die young anyway—people rarely survived long in their line of work.

If he thought about how, were they in another life, he could approach Taekwoon and court him, there was a certain sadness. (That was why he tried not to think about it too much.)

The next time they meet at a gala. It was another job, one that Wonsik only took to pass the time.

The target was a the owner of a charitable organization, and one of Wonsik's more morally correct decisions; the man was embezzling money from his own charity—and not only that, but he was having an affair. It was the wife who hired him.

This job's method called for subtlety; there were a lot of people present and too many opportunities to slip up and be caught. Poison would do the trick, as he planned it to.

Passing the time, Wonsik had taken to dancing. His hand was sought after by women who thought he was the heir of a business and wanted in on all six feet of him. It was flattering. That was when he spotted Taekwoon.

If people mistook him for an heir, they must've been mistaking Taekwoon for a CEO. Dressed in an immaculate, pressed black suit that hugged his curves in all the right places, with his light sandy hair parted at the side, he was truly a sight to be seen. The sleeves had an impressive, intricate pattern of gold embroidering and it seemed to showcase a wealth Wonsik didn't know if Taekwoon had or not.

He was staring directly at him. In his eyes was the light of something Wonsik couldn't understand but felt in the pit of his stomach.

Wonsik didn't falter in his steps, but he did need to leave the floor now that he knew he wasn't the only killer in the building. It wasn't like he could tell if Taekwoon's target was the same as his—or if he was merely showing up as a phantom to haunt him more.

Smoothly as he could, Wonsik guided his beautiful partner off the floor. To avoid conflict for leaving her, he kissed her hand gently and then turned off. He needed to execute his plan soon. Glancing at his watch, he determined he would be meeting up with the sommelier his employer hired alongside him.

In the hallways outside of the ballroom, Wonsik strode along and avoided eye contact with other guests; his looks drew him enough attention as it was. He reached a set of stairs that led to the second floor with the VIP areas. Servers came and went, fortunately not paying him mind as he looked like he belonged up here too.

At the other side of the rounded hallways, he met his brief partner by a wall of window panes. He grabbed the bottle to make it look as if he was asking about its attributes.

"Are you Ken?" he asked discretely, paying close attention to the label rather than the man in front of him.

"I assume you're R." the man replied, amused. R was an alias for an alias, something one in this line of work could never have too many of. "You have the additive?"

Wonsik nodded, mimicking picking up the wine menu and reading it.

"Aren't you early?" Ken asked, making a show of pointing at one of the items listed.

Wonsik rubbed his chin. "Might be unforeseen circumstances interfering."

Ken paused a moment, and then smirked. "I see. Is one of those a tail by a man who may or may not be the human form of a god?"

The words pulled a familiar string in his brain—it happened to be that he knew exactly who Ken was talking about. "Is someone watching us?" he asked, flipping over the menu and shaking his head.

"Yes. Or more specifically, you." Ken smiled cheekily.

 _Not now._ Wonsik wanted to groan. Any other time, he'd be glad to be the center of Taekwoon's attentions, but he needed to finish the job without interference. He slipped the menu back onto Ken's tray.

"I'll get back to you. Keep going about your cover."

Bowing with his arm at his waist, Ken chuckled. "Yes, sir."

Without missing a beat, Wonsik turned around and hoped his expression was as unsuspecting as he felt it was. Ahead, he spotted Taekwoon acting in the pretense of leaving one of the rooms that lined the hallway. Wonsik kept a steady pace, not eager to catch up.

At the stairs, instead of going back down, Taekwoon turned upwards. Wonsik paused just in time to see him stopped up a few steps, sure he was waiting to hear him stop walking to—then he continued.

Wonsik knew he was being invited upwards. He wanted to return to the matter at hand, _needed_ to, but against all reason, he turned left and followed Taekwoon. The path took him to a widespread veranda with not a soul in it but Taekwoon, who leaned onto the ornate railing to look out to the city below.

"I see you're here on a job." Taekwoon said unceremoniously when Wonsik came up next to him with nonchalance.

"That's always the case." he replied, joining the other in leaning forward. "Are you?"

"I'm not."

The answer was surprising. The only ever met when both of them were on jobs. Wonsik vaguely wondered what ties he had to the people at this place. He straightened out.

"Sorry, but . . . Do you mind then? My employer won't be happy if this isn't done. You know how it goes."

He didn't bother waiting for an answer before turning around.

Then, he found himself pinned to the ground. Taekwoon was as beautiful as ever, with the moonlight casting an ethereal glow off the left side of his face, the other half shaded darker. In his hand was a small revolver with a pearly handle, and its barrel was pressed into his pulse.

Wonsik wasn't distressed. He found Taekwoon's weight on his torso comforting and thought about grabbing his hips.

"Someone could see." Wonsik noted. Taekwoon stared at him, scrutinized his expression as if looking for something he wasn't sure was there but wanted it to be. He sighed. "If you're going to do it, could you just—"

"Why aren't you resisting?" Taekwoon cut him off. Wonsik watched his brow twitch in some kind of concern. "Why do you _never_ resist?"

Usually, there would be no room for him to answer. Taekwoon would become upset and leave the scene—or at least, Wonsik thought he got upset. But what for? Wonsik never did anything to him.

It didn't seem like he was going to leave this time (and Wonsik liked the way one of his hands was curling tighter around his shoulder) and now he had to think of an answer.

"I told you, there's no point."

He winced when the barrel dug into his skin. Taekwoon's lips curled into a sneer.

"How can you be an assassin and not value life?" he near spat.

Surprised, Wonsik blinked. He opened his mouth, but didn't have the chance to speak.

"You don't even value your own _life."_

Again, Wonsik was surprised. Was that the reason Taekwoon never went through with the wordless threats? Had he only been testing him this entire time? Wonsik knew for sure Taekwoon could—and maybe eventually _would—_ kill him, but he hadn't all this time because Wonsik wasn't afraid of dying?

"I . . ." He didn't know what to say.

Taekwoon scoffed and climbed off him, slipping the revolver into his tuxedo jacket. Wonsik knew him walking away was what came next.

"Wait," he called, pushing himself up. "Why don't you do it?"

Taekwoon glanced over his shoulder, straightening out his tuxedo. "I don't kill those who already want to die."

Wonsik couldn't help snorting, and Taekwoon glared.

"It's not that I want to die." he corrected. Taekwoon turned, body angled to the side. Wonsik shifted his weight. "It's just . . . I wouldn't mind if it was you."

Wind breezing by was the only sound between them for a long moment. Taekwoon stared at him like he'd said the most profound thing in the world. It was a moment later when Wonsik realized how strange and disconcerting that must've sounded.

He watched Taekwoon's lip twitch with sudden amusement.

"I see."

There were no signs of ache in Taekwoon's expression that Wonsik could see as he stepped forward. The space between them closed so quickly that Wonsik leaned back. He couldn't help glancing at Taekwoon's pink lips when they were face to face.

"Did you know," Taekwoon murmured, mouth forming elegantly around the words, "my job has actually been to kill you."

Wonsik wasn't the least bit shocked to hear those words. He would've been more surprised if told Taekwoon was following him because he had a _crush_ on him.

"I don't know what it is though," Taekwoon brought up his fingers to grace them along Wonsik's jaw. Wonsik's eyes widened at the contact, not expecting it. "I can't seem to do it."

Wonsik's mind ran through several responses, each sounding more stupid than the last. Taekwoon was so close to him, so beautiful and unreal and deadly. He was between the expectations of Taekwoon gutting him and Taekwoon kissing him—both of which he didn't truly mind.

Then, the body heat was gone. Wonsik turned his head and watched Taekwoon begin to exit the veranda.

Not looking back, Taekwoon said, "Do you not have a job to finish?"

Wonsik's hand came up to touch his own jaw, still feeling where fingers had been interested before. It felt like the knives against his neck, the barrels against his pulse, the suffocating weight on his torso—like life and death all in one.

He wanted more.

But first, the job needed to be finished.

**Author's Note:**

> [Crossposted from my long-running wontaek series on AFF, 8-Bit Fiction.](http://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/999345/39) It got so long on its own that I decided it should be a oneshot instead of being forgotten/ignored there. The prompt comes from the Tumblr blog of the same name, [8bitfiction](http://8bitfiction.com/), check it out if you have time~ Thanks for reading!


End file.
